


a miniature window, telling a truth so small (The Portraiture in Poems Remix)

by Woad



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bot Feels, F/M, Female Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:54:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9821318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woad/pseuds/Woad
Summary: Missing scene fromEven Though We Know Love's Landscape: Steph reads the poem Tony left for her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lazywriter7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazywriter7/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Even Though We Know Love's Landscape](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8980963) by [lazywriter7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazywriter7/pseuds/lazywriter7). 
  * In response to a prompt by [lazywriter7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazywriter7/pseuds/lazywriter7) in the [Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2017) collection. 



Halfway down the steps to Tony's lab and Steph groaned, remembering that he was in the air, off to a conference in Zurich.

“JARVIS?” She asked, tucking her hands into the leather jacket she wore, and waited for the AI to respond.

She knew this was silly. Tony had explained JARVIS was always running, an ever present, consciousness, bubbling away beneath the everyday, little things. He was capable of handling several dozen tasks simultaneously. Still, it was easier to just treat JARVIS like another resident of the tower, one that had to finish up what they were doing before pausing to have a conversation.

The response was nearly immediate. “Yes, Captain Rogers?”

Steph grinned. “Would you let me into Tony's lab if I ask nicely?”

“I'm afraid it would be highly unusual to let anyone into the workshop while Sir is away.”

_Rats._

“Is this about the sketch book you left in the lab yesterday?”

“Sometimes I think you can read minds, JARVIS.”

“Sir has not seen fit to install that upgrade yet,” the AI replied, and she smirked.

“I wouldn't envy you traipsing about in his head.”

Though, in a way that was a lie. She had learned since their first explosive argument that there was quite a bit more substance to the man than first appeared. She used to think that she was good at reading people. Then Tony had come along and blown that conceit--and the Chitauri army--sky-high with his nuke.

“If you proceed to the lab, DUM-E will be waiting at the door with your sketchbook, Captain.”

Steph smiled, hand sliding down the polished stainless steel rail as she descended the last flight of stairs. “Thank you, JARVIS,” she said, spotting the glass door ajar, and hearing the whir of decades-old servos waiting for her. For a man who insisted he wasn't sentimental, he kept his old robots lovingly well maintained.

“Thanks, buddy,” she said, patting the robot on what she imagined was DUM-E’s head. It beeped happily and the long stalk that she thought of as the robot’s neck moved up and down like a dog wagging its tail.

“Oh,” she said, catching sight of an askew paper caught between her sketches. “I think you accidentally gave me something of Tony’s. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble…” she trailed off as she pulled out the page, Stark's scratchy, blocky letters instantly recognizable, shaped into stanzas.

She read the poem, then read it again, and then once more--her eyes fixated on, _And add some extra, just for you._

She knew Howard well enough to understand.

It was a bitter sort of truth, and her heart broke to know it was Tony's.

She folded the paper, tucking it safely into the inner pocket of her jacket. It was a vulnerable piece of Tony, one freely given, and one she now felt honor-bound to protect.

Door still ajar, DUM-E’s claw-like head twisted to one side, confused.

“Turns out it was for me, after all,” she said.

It made another beep, then tried to back up, but an odd angle caught its wheeled platform base on the door. It tried again, ramming itself against the door even harder, and Steph winced.

“Hang on,” she said, and stooped down, rotating DUM-E so that it could fit properly through the door.

Free of obstruction, the door rolled closed between them, and DUM-E gave another beep. As the robot wheeled itself back into the lab, Steph couldn't help thinking about the note in her pocket.  
  
_And don’t have any kids yourself._

It seemed to her that he had made some for himself anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from ["Father's Mirror" by Miriam Goodman](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=37462).


End file.
